Long Disfigure Poems
Long Disfigure Poems. Below are the most popular long Disfigure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disfigure poems by poem length and keyword.
crushed at rock bottom he gathered the fragments of descent
slow motion agony that started at a plateau of deluded deceit
free falling sadness spiraling out of control beyond fast repair
the black dog on his shoulder had survived the fall and barked
another round of sadness an insurmountable sorrow cheered on
‘you are useless and even void and oblivion are having a laugh’
a tunnel with no light and the canary asphyxiated in the mine shaft
another panic attack unable to ease the landing of a scarred mind
scared and confused he gathered the pieces and stabbing shards
with broken bones and un-abating accusations he collected his guilt
fears and shame about yet another defeat at the foundation of evil
demons and miserable clairvoyants spoke in bifurcated obsessions
possessed by the mother of all depressions he reached for a glimmer
of hope he searched for a message from science deities and reason
yet unable to guide his emotions all efforts crashed without rescue
the rope had twisted once more and he dangled helpless face down
just enough slack to disfigure his angry face that featured disgust
and yet as the blood flooded his brain he surrendered his objections
one final attempt and he severed the noose with the open fracture of
the razor sharp dislocation sticking out just below the palm of his hand
with a further snap of his wrist and life line he surrendered lost dreams
if life gave you hemlock but the vessel had cracked on the impact
of the smash and grab of lifeless cycle of disassociated insanity he
resolved to drink his own blood and call upon autoimmune response
after all the medication had been useless and hours on Freud’s couch
had only imprinted more festering pressure sores on purulent skin
cognitive explorations had only dragged him further down self-denial
religion mantras and science had failed to invoke sanity and healing
levitation would not emerge when he fell from the edge of madness
the cross lay in pieces and nails had lacerated his heart and resolve
just when he felt the pulse getting weaker and with delirious gaze
he succumbed to a last ditch attempt to reassemble a piece of his soul
wrote an ultimate will on the wall and vowed to hand over let go and live
15th June 2020
I hear things that make my dear heart lose its composure.
The news of Earthquakes,cyclones,and tornadoes have brought my rigid heart to a fracture.
Our lands have felt them,even the air,the waters and those high places that have the mountains as their enclosure.
My tears cant help but roll down my eyelids commisure.
Who will answer the question that our hearts conjure?
"Who is at fault?"
The weather?,mother earth or grandmother nature??.
Rather,i think they should fault us for our torture.
Which we effortlessly and so quickly have dealt to them in immeasurable measure.
I think we would have stopped this if we had thought of even our own future.
But presently in our minds,it's more exploitatory mechanisms that we conjure.
So we can defile their resources intricately till they become impure.
Imagine the wastes and damages we have made her procure.
Just for the treasures we greedily want to procure.
The pleasures we temporarily want to enjoy.
And for the landscapes and structures we want to see in our pictures.
We forget all the fractures she painlessly endure.
Despite our hand-made breakages and fissures.
how many prohibitions and restrictions did she actually adjure?.
Yet we have engineered diverse machines and given them fear-imputing features.
And it's her crust that our machines puncture,when we ride them recklessly like men on stupor.
We have access to her materials for sure,and from them get our own beautiful infrastructures.
But we fill her waters with things that her impure,and our day to day activities disfigure her once beautiful structure.
Though we see the havocs that we have caused to rupture.
we still take our stand and claim our actions are just for our comfort and culture.
Oh!! These tears are for the environment,mother earth and grand mother nature.
For they are caught up with destroyers in this dangerous venture.
If only our actions from now are unto them like a cure.
Then there will be hope to take a picture one day,and what you will see in them are wonderful eden-features.
OLUWATOBILOBA ©
When You Really Discern…
‘Why The Drama?’ Pattern
and Pending-Adoration,
Pertains-Peroration
When You Perceive…
Who Demands and Why?... Proceed…
… to Ply and Pry to Ascertain…
’ He Deserves This Portion-Acclaim’
and Drumming-Heart, Soulful-Desire…
and Defer-Strength to Dry-Pyre
and Humble-Pie, Donated-Data –
in Your Plea-Bargain-Brain- Por-Nada
Disperse the Diaspora
Prefer Real-Deal and Retain Prerogative-Honor
To, The Divine and Peerless…
Person of God – of Pure-Spirits
… Whose Personage Positively…
Remains Due-Homage and Dignity
…The Pinnacle…
Of The Direct-Pact - Empirical
Drawn and Done,
with His Precious DayStar-Son,
Who Deigned to Come
by The Father’s Decree…
Was Dispatched with Poise-Prudently
as Probe and Provision…
for Our Poverty and Pleurisy-Drain-Derision
He is The Pivot-Portrayal of Royal…
and Portal-To-Pace-Immortal
This Diadem-Prince-Progeny…
of Dazzling Famed-Piety and Propriety!
The Possessor and Presenter
and The Permission-for-us-to Speak and Palace-Enter
The Premium-Derivative-Son,
This Potentate Happy One...
Proof-Explained and Patent-Won
Delving Mysteries; Described Memories;
Drawing Forth Miracle-Draperies
and In Deference…
As A Pro-Dative – Proconsul-Presence…
He Maintains Preference
and Displays: That, The Dynamic-Will…
and Determined-Purpose Still,
Definitely, is Top-Priority…
One… and The Preeminent-Same… Pardon-Plea
He Is The Presiding – Deciding-Door-Key…
Precisely! - Praise-Accordingly!
For We Are Wind-Swept, Droves of Dust…
Dirt and Air-Gusts,
Now, Plundered-Seeds… Still-Planted…
Packed to Earth, Properly-Contained and Patted
if We Continue to Divide…
Disfigure, Pilfer and Hide
From SonShine, then in Dirty-Prairie…
We’ll be Permanent-Lain- and Perjury
If ‘We Choose’ to Develop…
Too Low-Down, to Peel-Hope
or Plow-Perverted…
The Preview, We’ll Not Regain…(We Deserted!)
Its Our Duty and Delight…
to Reach Dawn-Heights
and Par-Policy: Dump Rotted Produce…
and Pitch-Pit-Grain- Pro-Ruse
HAIL THE KING OF NAPOLI (1)
The Chronicles of the old king, Diego.
An epitaph of his statue reads: "When I go,
I go away from you then this badge
loses honour and beats dead with no urge"
Like a slackened drum that fades afar5.
I call out for you against my jutted star
And shout into the wind ridges like I'm barking,
Calling out for a successor regardless of skin,
Man mountain like Osimhen who's very keen,
African-breed & blooded but the spirit of Maradona.¹°
He's not one to score PKs doing a rabona.
This club waited for him who would hold the sway
Then the masked mafia mustered his way
From Lagos Nigeria to French club Lille Metropolis,
shatterin' Weah's goal record like voices in the Holies,¹5
Surmounted surgery & the pain of facial disfigure,
returned from the sidelines with a happy demeanour,
and became the face of Napoli, a phenomenon.
Rose from a whole season among giants & gladiators,
but endure weights of expectations among spectators.²°
The city's folklore is rewritten in the stars.
This masked man, you won't smite his armour
while scoring goals, giving assists and more.
V.O 9 evinces predatory under the floodlights thrill
and sees blood in goal when'ver it's time for the kill.²5
Heaven gave us this day but Osimhen delivers it
And set the Diego Armando Maradona stadium alight,
denotating a blinding brand of lightning!
All like a day's job from he whose pace is frightening.
Naples, this city of thy worship, jumps in hysteria,³°
Set ever free! Free from the drought of Serie A.
Joy engulfs the air, devouring the hearts of men,
which pantest for lost glory returned by Osimhen,
Naked, beneath the lidless eye of the heavens!
Naples, Elysian City of Ocean Blue & Ravens,³5
calm enchantest amid mutinous air & sea!
Parade the heroes from Campania to the Tyrrhenian Sea!
Oh! What a Metropolis of ruined Paradise.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? May 2023.
An unexpected storm happened last fall
I put a window in to keep out the snow and wind
For the comfort you brought me, I embraced you
You and the peace I didn’t know I needed became my obsession
This is wrong
You were so constant I got used to it
Winter brings a new set of challenges
When it’s light outside I look right through you
But when it’s dark, you show my reflection, and I’m forced to acknowledge you
This is wrong
Cracked, but you still serve a purpose
Now even the light comes with a scarred view
And deservedly you fracture my reflection-
Since I had been angry enough to disfigure you in the first place
This is wrong
Vulnerability left no room for a final mistake
Hopes of being whole again replaced by “I wish we’d never met”
Maybe there’s no need for you anymore since it’s spring
Glass litters the lawn outside, and I still cut myself when I walk there
This is wrong
An open frame in my wall where the window was
The presence of invasive cold does less to freeze me than does your absence
Instead of the snow, rain introduces itself
And now instead of a reflection I can see the dark that you sheltered me from
This is wrong
As summer approaches I realize
I didn’t have a room with a wall for you
I didn’t even have a house or a foundation
So why was I ever looking for a window in the first place?
This was wrong
But for just a moment before it shattered, there was a defiant “I love you”
Where we were so broken but so desperate to prove that broken is beautiful
The beautiful promise of “no more breaking promises”
Then a final broken promise for us to realize broken is ugly
This is so wrong
I was 16 when I helped frame a house
From the concrete to the roof
We put the windows in last
I hope understanding that will be my concrete
And when fall comes around again I’ll be ready
The Ancient Mariner of the parliament square
Like the mariner he was, a scrawny, skin unfair
A loner with a glittering eyes, possibly a bit touched
A Clint Eastwood impersonator look, he seemed to bear
But a powerful speaker than professional speakers.
Urging world to live a more Christian life cleaner
Lived and slept outside the parliament for a decade
In his hand holding, with broad thrust, a loudhailer.
Against Western groups killing thousands Iraqi people
He fought and spoke for 3,600 days like an eagle.
Of traffic, clock bangs and the hordes of visitors.
When Haw at his mouthpiece, all the voices disabled
Haw had a remarkably insistent, irritating voice
And Mr. David Blunkett was irked and annoyed
Reacting to 2005 organized crime And Police Act
It was “using a maul to crack a nut” to destroy.
The More Brian noise caused with his loudhailer
The more MPS demanded to remove the bother
But the word “Bother” sounded too weak
Compared to warmongering by Blaire & B-liars.
With an Antipodean woman Haw shared war choirs
With his trademark cries of “ Tony B-liar, Tony B.I.A.R”
When another woman started up, public was grateful
Sharp as seamstress’s needle was Sheila’ s crisp voice.
Despite his Left-wing favor, he was a Right-wing figure
A man, standing up to the state, never thought to disfigure
Brian Haw had plenty more fuel for all his protests
The war in Afghanistan and the war in Iraq to configure.
When Milosevic was tried at the Hague for war crimes
He said, “why not to try Blair and Bush’s Crimes?”
Like Coleridge’s haunted mariner: long, lank & brown
He had one vice: tobacco, he died of lung cancer prime.
+++
March 12, 2014
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Rubaiyat
Contest: One Against Many by Joe Maverick
Tough skinned -strong, take it and dish it out.
Thin skinned - overly sensitive.
Skin of our teeth -
struggle for life, survival.
Skin defines and designs us,
the skin we’re in, through pain, color issues, death and life.
Skin-If skin could talk.
Fascinating story.
Not just color of skin but skin which is our body fabric, the material that wraps our
soul and our innermost parts silky, splashed with water, warmth, cologne, love
and labor-skin.
yes john heck this is prose but...the skin I'm in Part One
Touch comes through skin and touch informs us of so much. The way people
touch us tells us if they are comfortable with us and with themselves.
It can be hostile, strident touch; rough, accusatory, disciplining, invasive or it can
be sensual, exciting, invigorating, accepting, encouraging, loving, comforting.
Skin Talk
too frequent breakouts, rashes, allergies, sores, impetigo, suffered
embarrassment, pain and shame. Scars! Coco butter for every nick and scrape.
But my black knees and those scars embarrassing in
swimsuits or shorts
legs were scarred with black spots.
Marvin Taylor called me leopard legs in fifth grade and fifty years later,
I remember the sting, shame and pain of it.
Campaigned against my scarred legs with scrubs and other potions until the
spots began to fade and a sense of perspective...
skin challenges, burns, rapid tissue growth that should disfigure -yet the
elephant man walks with dignity and grace in his could be monster face
severe acne in the face, severe psoriasis and yet their character and ways of
dealing with these problems determine their real image, reflection and persona
life is a gift that can not be determined by black spots on legs.
WATER IS LIFE
People ignore me because of my simple nature
If you ask me, I would not hesitate to say;
When the creator takes, I take, however, every other thing comes after me.
As a liquid, so colorless I am, I don’t deny the fact anyway
But, tell you solemnly I am valuable more than any conceivable liquid that men embrace.
Plant feel prideful enough, men thought they are the greatest
Birds of the air with their glittering nature, this is because;
I get enormous kiss from them every time!
When I become angry for anything,
I will put shame, disgrace to it
It cease from its normal functioning.
If men boast that they can do without me, notwithstanding the status
Can they withstand my wrath when I cease for three weeks?
Oh no! Even if they can, they will stink, struck them with disease-
Disfigure their physic and they will kiss the mother Earth!
Why should the birds be arrogant?
Is it for; their unique feathers, attractive beaks, and their consequential legs?
Do they not feed in fruits of trees?
Which I nurture tenaciously from incarnation
If I should give them my back side, they will simply add nothing but
Manure to the mother Earth.
What of the beautiful flamboyant flowers
That produces sweet nectar for insect to live?
What of The plant of the earth that every animal derives its life?
Am I not the one that makes them paramount?
If they decide not to be in speaking terms with me
Oh no! I will make them as thin as an AIDS patient
I will disfigure their out look to resemble such suffering from-
Sickle-cell anemia or perhaps, kwashiorkor
But, am so glad that, inter-alia, they concede that
I should as well be attributed as life!
Mankind, you're so proud and tall
You really think you know it all
And once you had discovered fire
to such great heights you did aspire
Once, gladly, of myself I gave
but now your plan is to enslave
Do you think it is your right
to consign whole species to the night
You rob the forests of their trees
and think you can do as you please
Disfigure me in your quest for oil
and with your wastes, my seas despoil
My rivers now flow red as blood
choked and dying with your crud
I've pleaded, but to no avail
as you wiped out the mighty whale
My atmosphere is choked with fumes
just to heat your fancy rooms
Radiation blights the ground
Everywhere your footprint's found
Pesticides pollute your crops
Acids taint the pure raindrops
My icecaps melt with global warming
A hole in the ozone layer is forming
I am your home, your ONLY home
Amongst the stars you'll never roam
Will you then, your home destroy
with these methods you employ?
You care not for this pollution
What then, mankind, is the solution
Should I let you on Earth remain
or wipe you out and start again
Mankind take heed you have been warned
So far my warnings have been scorned
One day soon you'll feel my rage
I'll knock you back to the stone age
With earthquakes I'll destroy a city
Too late then to ask for pity
With fire and storm and tidal wave
I'll consign you to the grave
What you've done make's no sense
Now I demand much recompense
Mankind, betrayer, of you I tire
Heed my words ... my name is Gaia
Fight or flight mode always on
Can't explain to anyone
what is going on in life
Internal/External strife
"Take a breath; you'll be alright"
Set a match to dynamite
World without is going mad
World within is getting sad
Cortisol spikes all the time
Rarely am I doing fine
"Wake up! Someone's calling you!"
"Look around! There's much to do!"
Balance work and what's at home
You're fenced in, not free roam
Danger's waiting; don't go far
Bombs disfigure, leave a scar
"Caregiver" your major role
Try to keep it in control
Energy is on the wane
Losing marbles, can't stay sane
On decline is mental health
Send out feelers on the stealth
Do they know I'm on the edge?
Can't hold on to "live life" pledge
Eulogies their time to speak
During life, played hide and seek
No one came to find me here
Though they knew my life was drear
Fight or flight mode, cortisal
Will make sure I take the fall
When I'm laid there in the ground
Please, say silent! Not a sound!
Don't be sad; no, do not cry!
Don't you try to fathom why!
All is well; I am at peace
The fires in my life now cease
I'll enjoy a nice long sleep
Eyes all dry, for I'll not weep
Hope I'll hear that trumpet blast
Rise up and reach home at last
There in heaven all is well
Thankfully, I've skipped on hell
Here is only harmony
Fight or flight is history!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
OCTOBER 19, 2024
Beirut, Lebanon